NOVPUB
Chapter 417
The knight's lower half convulsed violently, spasming like a dying insect. 𝚗ovp𝚞b.𝚌om
Fwoosh!
A burst of violet energy exploded from beneath the hammer and spread like a ruptured water balloon, instantly enveloping Ian.
Simultaneously, Ian's eyes widened. The moment his core absorbed the residual chaos energy, his vision flipped, and an illusion unfolded before him.
A vast void, writhing with ominous colors, stretched endlessly before him. At its center, countless violet eyes stared back at him, their full forms impossible to perceive—only the searing intensity of their collective gaze.
—You're quite popular, friend.
A low chuckle accompanied Yog's whisper, tickling at Ian's mind. Then, as if yanked upward by unseen hands, his consciousness snapped back to reality. All of his senses instantly returned.
—I'll take that as a thank you.
As the quest completion window came into focus, Yog's languid voice trailed behind. The lingering light around him hadn't yet fully dissipated, which meant his entrapment in the illusion was brief.
—Now then... I'll be... resting...
Yog's words faded, as if utterly drained of strength. Had it not been for it, Ian might have been stuck in the vision far longer.
Good work.
As the clomping of his black horse's hooves closed in on him, Ian closed the quest window and straightened his back. Lifting his battle hammer, his eyes burned once more with surging blue magic—this time laced with streaks of violet.
"What the hell."
"Our boss lost?"
There were still more enemies to kill. As the bandits' dumbfounded murmurs filled the air, Ian's gaze swept toward them.
Seemingly reading his mind, the black horse, which had been trotting back toward him, immediately picked up the pace.
It really feels like it's mine now.
Ian used his battle hammer like a vaulting pole, thrusting it into the ground and launching himself upward.
He twisted in midair and landed in the saddle of his horse as cleanly and fluidly as a performer executing a trick.
The beast snorted as his thighs clenched against the horse's back, instantly galloping forward at full speed. Resting the battle hammer diagonally over his shoulder, Ian finally turned his gaze toward the remaining bandits.
A few of them stiffened in alarm as they registered the flickering blue glow in his eyes. However, before they could decide their next move, Ian had already finished casting his spell.
Swoosh!
With a sweeping motion of his left arm toward the ground, blue magic burst outward from him and expanded in concentric circles.
Crack, crack, crack!
One after another, ice crystals resembling snowflakes rose from the ground. Jagged, sharp spikes covered each one, making them resemble ice sea urchins. The spiked formations extended outward in an ever-growing circle, stretching endlessly to the sides.
"What the fuck is that?"
"That crazy bastard is coming this way!"
But aside from a few, none of the bandits paid attention to the spell Ian had just cast. After all, Ian had summoned the Platinum Barrier once more and was charging straight toward them.
With one hand, he slowly spun his battle hammer above his head.
"Knock him down! Just knock him down!"
"Shoot! Aim for the horse!"
The bandits' faces lost all traces of confidence. They had seen exactly what happened to their leader when he got hit by that hammer. Instinctively, they stumbled backward, fumbling as they hastily notched arrows into their bows.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
The fastest among them loosed their arrows first—but by then, Ian had already completed his next spell.
A sudden whirlwind erupted around the black horse, swallowing the incoming arrows and scattering them in every direction.
A few late shots still pierced through the dissipating wind, but they either bounced harmlessly off the Platinum Barrier or missed entirely. Only one managed to bury itself in the horse's upper thigh, but it did nothing to slow its charge.
Huff, huff!
If anything, it only seemed to have enraged the beast. It snorted like an infuriated bull as it thundered toward the nearest centaur bandit.
Ian spun the battle hammer even faster.
Crunch!
As Ian swept past, the battle hammer smashed into one of the bandits, folding the creature's upper body backward along with its bow-wielding arm. The force of the impact was so strong that its front legs lifted off the ground, mimicking a rearing horse.
Thud.
Its lifeless, mangled body collapsed sideways in a heap.
However, Ian was no longer looking at it. As his black horse slowed to circle back, Ian adjusted his grip on the battle hammer with both hands—which was enough to shatter the bandits' already low morale.
"Fuck! Everyone, run!"
"Scatter and..."
Their panicked shouts trailed off.
"Since when?"
"What the fuck?"
Jagged ice formations had surrounded them. Infused with an unnatural chill, the massive ice spikes shimmered with an ominous frost.
The bandits had no way of knowing that Ian had amplified them with chaos energy. They only understood that leaping was their only chance to clear the barrier; otherwise, they would face certain death.
"It's called Crystal Prison. Step too close, and it explodes." Ian calmly explained. Though he didn’t speak loudly, the magic woven into his words made them echo with unnerving clarity.
Several of the bandits spun their heads, their eyes wide.
"That means no one's getting out of here," Ian finished.
He had immediately prepared this spell for a simple reason. He only prioritized the bandit leader because once it was dead, the rest would inevitably flee. If not immediately, then certainly after killing a few more. In a game, that could have been fine, but this was reality. He couldn't afford to leave any loose ends.
I used to only use this skill when I was the one running away. To think I'd be using it in reverse here in Chapter Four.
Ian tightened his grip on the battle hammer and swung it again with full force.
Swoosh.
The strike crashed straight into the upper body of another bandit who had gotten too close.
Crunch, boom, boom!
The bandit's torso folded sideways as it was flung through the air. By the time it tumbled across the ground, Ian had already passed it. His black horse slowed and turned, and Ian readjusted his grip on the battle hammer.
"Sh-shit!"
"Kill him or we’re dead!"
Panicked, some of the bandits threw aside their bows, snatching up the lances strapped to their lower bodies. They had no choice—which made them more desperate, their movements more frantic.
"That's more like it." Ian adjusted his grip on the battle hammer again, a slow grin tugging at his lips. His eyes were now swirling with gray magic.
***
The howls and screams of the beasts had faded. The clash of metal, the sound of flesh being torn apart—all of it had ended.
All that remained were countless dismembered and mangled corpses, their stench, and the survivors’ anguished noises.
Still seated on his saddle, Valten let out a long, weary sigh. He swung his lance once, flinging away the blood and flesh clinging to its shaft and blade.
Swoosh.
Beyond his visor, his deep blue gaze slowly faded back to its natural golden hue. The darkness that had clung to his armor also receded, revealing its original, dull, and weathered state, now smeared with the remains of slain monsters.
Clank.
He secured the black lance to the hook on his saddle and then dismounted in one fluid motion.
With a squish, his metal boots landed in the thick, viscous remains of what was likely the last creature he had killed.
Crunch.
Nearby, his war horse buried its muzzle into the gutted corpse of a slain beast, tearing into its insides. Even as it exhaled hot breaths, thick with the scent of blood, its jaw never ceased moving.
Valten ran a hand over the sweat-matted fur of the beast's neck before finally turning.
The battlefield stretched out before him, covered with the aftermath of the brutal clash, which had ripped apart bodies and scattered them in every direction. A foul stench, the same one clinging to him, now filled the air.
The soil, already dark to begin with, gleamed with the thick ichor of slain monsters. Like his war horse, the other mounts had buried their heads into corpses to feed on them.
Among them, the Wolves moved swiftly, darting between the dead, gathering spoils, and tending to the wounded.
"Captain." A Wolf approached Valten, striding against the tide of movement. It had a horizontal slit like a scar added to one of the eye holes in its iron mask.
He was the Decurion—the leader of the pack.
Like Valten, it was also covered from head to toe in blackish-red bodily fluids and clinging flesh.
"What are our casualties?" Valten asked without stopping, his gaze sweeping over those tending to the dead and injured behind him.
"Five dead. Nine wounded. Four of them are in critical condition—we’re not sure if they'll make it."
"Fourteen, then." A low, indistinct vibration underlay Valten's voice. "Gather the fallen warriors' equipment and make sure that their bodies are properly buried."
"Yes, Captain."
"Load all the injured onto the supply wagons and prioritize their treatment and recovery. And don't forget to put up a barrier."
"Will do." The Decurion bowed his head before promptly turning away.
When he was gone, Valten sighed quietly.
Perhaps, considering that they had wiped out over three times their number of monsters, these losses were minor. But in terms of his forces, the losses were far from negligible.
The bandits who had driven the monsters at them had fled long before the battle was over. If they attempted something like this again before reaching Sol Bryn, the damage would be far worse.
Besides, even those with minor injuries couldn't be sent back into battle. They would fight valiantly, of course, but the wounds would fester. In the end, they would either die or be consumed by madness.
Valten's sharp eyes soon narrowed. The ones who should've been visible by now were nowhere to be seen. They were supposed to be safely guarding the rear.
"Sir Valten,” someone called from atop a supply wagon.
Among the wagons lined up in a row, Lucia rose from the one at the very edge. She still wore her iron mask, pressed firmly over half her face.
Diana, also masked, appeared to be sitting on the floor of the wagon, only her shoulders and head peeking up. Her fairy-like, unreadable gaze fixed on Valten.
"You fought well. A truly impressive battle."
Lucia's compliment made Valten stop and look up at her.
She must have watched him and the Wolves fight. And yet, her gaze held little difference from usual.
"I'm relieved you're unharmed,” Valten answered as if unaffected despite his surprise.
At the very least, her lack of revulsion toward the darkness was a good sign. It meant she was likely to accept what lay ahead as well.
After all, Madness had once been another name for Lu Entre. The meaning had long since changed, but she was still the Apostle closest to madness.
"All thanks to you," Lucia said. "If my help is needed anywhere, just say the word. I will gladly assist."
"Not yet. But when the time comes, I will call upon you." Valten glanced around once more. "Where is the Agent of the Saint, though?"
"He is fulfilling his duty."
"His duty?"
Lucia tilted her head slightly, looking rather puzzled. "You were the one who asked him to guard the rear, weren't you?"
Valten hesitated for a moment.
"The cannibal bandits targeted the rear," Diana interjected.
Valten turned to her. "What?"
"This battle was a double trap. A scheme laid by those cunning, mule-blooded bastards."
Valten's head snapped toward the back of the wagon. However, all he saw was the path of corpses that they had carved and the mist-laden darkness, thick with dust like scattered soil.
"You're saying the Agent of the Saint went to face them alone?"
Even he could not pierce through that murk. Especially not now, when the monsters' bodily fluids were still evaporating in the air.
"I have to go find him."
Valten turned toward the front of the company.
However, as he raised his hand to summon his warhorse, Lucia replied, "I don't think that'll be necessary, Sir Valten."
